They did not know who I'd be,
I was a child back then, not yet set free.
Each wound they left became a door
Through which my naked pain would pour.

The child they knew has long since fled,
And as time passed my tears were shed.
They have my photograph old and worn,
While I became a woman scorned.

How great it is to know that they cannot see
The strength that has grown wild inside of me.
Their story is over, that page has turned,
Their privilege was lost and lessons were learned.

Let them keep their faded view
Of someone they once long ago knew,
As they hold firmly onto the past
While I am free to fly at last.

©️Lizzie Bevis